


a love that transcends hunger

by AvaRosier



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Historical Divergence, Soulmate AU, mentions of past violation of bodily autonomy because peter hale, vaguely historical au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 09:34:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5534921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaRosier/pseuds/AvaRosier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If the question is, '<i>is it possible to fall in love in the course of a single day</i>?', then the answer must be, '<i>well that depends on the day in question</i>.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	a love that transcends hunger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scxlias](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scxlias/gifts).



> title comes from the richard siken poem 'snow and dirty rain', one of my personal favorites.

 

  
  
  


**7:45 am**

 

Scott drifted in a pleasant haze, somewhere between the land of slumber and awakening. The warm presence of a body pressed along his front kept him anchored in the present. His limbs were heavy- filled with a lassitude that prevented him from even wanting to move an inch. The soft body that his arms were curled around squirmed in his hold and let out a murmur, wakening.

 

Here he remembers that he's in bed with his wife, and from the way she begins to tense against him, Lydia is remembering too.

 

Scott exhaled carefully and removed his arm, rolling onto his back and then sitting up slowly. He made a show of stretching before stepping out from underneath the trapped warmth of the blanket. The clock by his bedside said '7:45' which was fifteen minutes earlier than he'd planned on getting up. Beneath his feet, the cold hardwood floor creaked as he hurried towards the bathroom.

 

From the look of the snow coming down in a flurry outside, it'd take a while longer to make the drive to work. After he had relieved himself, Scott turned on the shower but strained his ears to listen to the pace of Lydia's heartbeat through the closed door. It calmed and then he heard the soft patter of her feet as she crossed the bedroom, paused (presumably to grab her robe), and continued out into the hallway towards the kitchen.

 

Disappointment lodged like a stone in his gut and there was nothing for Scott to do but get into the shower and continue with his day as usual.

 

Him and Lydia have only known each other for three and a half months, and they've been married for exactly that long. Scott wasn't sure what he'd expected when the message had arrived, tied up with a red ribbon, to inform him that the Oracles had found his Soulmate. The awkwardness, yes. But maybe he'd hope for more of a connection by now? Weren't Soulmates supposed to be a good match?

 

Shower complete, he quickly shaved and combed his hair neatly back with a bit of gel. While he did so, Scott couldn't help chuckling as he remembered one of the first mornings with Lydia, when she'd taken one look at his heavily gelled hair and scrunched her nose. “I don't think the animals will spook if your hair isn't shellacked down, McCall.”

 

(The fourth thing he'd learned about Lydia Martin: he liked the teasing lilt to her voice, it always felt like a tacit challenge and made him want to smile.)

 

“You know, you're a McCall now, too.” He had called after her.

 

The truth was that Scott wasn't sure what to make of his wife. It'd been understandable under the circumstances and given that Lydia had come through the checkpoint at Salvation gate, he'd assumed she might have been disgusted to be matched with a werewolf.

 

From what he'd heard, there were a lot of lies taught to citizens in that sector. A lot of lies, yes, but a lot of truths, too. The war had been long and brutal. None of the factions were free of blood on the scales. All Scott had been able to do from the start of their marriage was show Lydia that he wasn't like some of those Alphas who had sowed violence and terror in the name of preemptively striking at their enemies.

 

He thinks he's done a good job at that, but it was still hard to really talk to Lydia, to get to know her more in depth from her own words. She might be genial around him, but there was always that false front that mystified him more than anything.

 

Lydia was bustling around the kitchen when he finally entered, humming a familiar pop tune as she poured two cups of coffee. The smaller mug, she set in front of Scott's place at their small dining table. The larger one, she set in front of her spot, catty-corner to him. “Breakfast is almost ready,” she informed him, as if the sizzle of bacon in the pan weren't clue enough.

 

“Smells good.” He murmured, watching her. Her long red hair, often a source of fascination for Scott, is already set up in rollers and covered. He spared another glance outside at the deepening snowfall.

 

“Do you still have class today?” He asked before munching on a slice of toast. Lydia murmured an affirmative, leaning over the table to push a veritable mountain of scrambled eggs off the pan and onto his plate before serving herself a smaller portion. Scott bit back a chuckle- she'd been horrified to discover just how much bigger his appetite was than the run-of-the-mill human male.

 

“The radio announced the university would still be open. Which is good, because a little inclement weather is not going to get in the way of me demolishing this proof in front of Professor Wright.” The steely determination in her voice had Scott snorting lightly.

 

“I won't even feel sorry for him, then.”

 

Yes, there might still be a chasm between them, but the commiserative grin he shared with her at the table wasn't nothing, either.

 

 

 

**10:30 am**

 

“ _ Awoo _ ?” Baxter howled mournfully, rolling over onto his back and watching Scott with big, dark eyes. Scott scratched the small dog's stomach, hands still encased in blue gloves while he waited for a few test results for Dr. Deaton.

 

“It's alright, Buddy. One more day and you'll be back home-” The rest of his sentence was interrupted by the back door banging open. Scott didn't startle because he had heard her coming- Malia never tried to hide her presence from him.

 

“It's happening tonight,” she announced without preamble before finding the nearest clear counter space and hopping up onto it in her mismatched outfit of gray tights, yellow plaid skirt, and magenta swing coat. Her hair, which she'd chopped off last month, was secured off her temples with yellow barrettes.

 

Scott picked Baxter up and carefully placed the squirming animal back into his temporary cage. Straightening back up, he raised an eyebrow in Malia's direction.

 

“Just a few grunts, right? Maybe one or two middle management?”

 

Malia nodded, fiddling with some empty test tubes next to the sink. “That's the intel Boyd and Derek picked up.”

 

“Good.” To which he caught her eye roll.

 

“I still don't understand why we can't just kill Peter. The police haven't caught him, and all he does is continue to hurt people.”

 

Scott stiffened as the flash of darkness swamped him...the memory of fear and pain, the sound of crunching leaves and red eyes nearly overwhelming him. Malia caught the reaction and shot him a regretful frown. “Sorry.”

 

“Don't be.” Scott shrugged off her concern. He was getting awfully used to doing that lately, it seemed. They lapsed into silence as Scott continued to work, the silence of the room broken up by the rhythmic back-and-forth swing of Malia's legs.  He understands her need for vengeance, he really does. The man might be her biological father, but he had wreaked just as much havoc on her life as her biological mother had.

 

“It's too risky to take Peter on directly. He's much too likely to get away and make our lives a living hell.  If we make it hard for him to do business, we can undermine his power and get the gangs and politicians to turn on him.” Even as he explained his reasoning to Malia yet again, Scott could feel the gnawing emptiness that reminded him of the other reason he didn't want to have to kill Peter.

 

_ He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man. _

 

It was the one thing he feared above all else.

 

The only response he got to that was a small uptick of her chin. “Hey, how's work going? Have you gotten your first assignment yet?” Finally, a bright smile.

 

“Yep. Boss man told me my S.O. will be Val Clarke. She's pretty awesome so far.” Going into the police academy had been a bit risky for Malia, given their side activities were rather extrajudicial. But the police weren't as corrupt nowadays as they could have been, considering. Councilor Ito ran a tight ship.

 

“Good. I'm glad.” He told her warmly. Another stretch of silence passed before he decided to probe again. “How are the nightmares?”

 

She'd been a wild thing, nearly feral, when he'd met her three years after the war had ended. He knows what haunts her waking steps, what overtakes her at night.

 

He hasn't breathed a word of this to his friends- not even his wife- but...Malia's nightmares sounded like the mirror version of Lydia's.  If Lydia was aware that it was Scott who held her when she began crying and flailing in the middle of the night...she'd never mentioned it.

 

As if reading his mind, Malia cut to the chase. “How's the wife?” Maybe he had a Lydia-face, a certain expression he always made when he thought of her, Scott mused.

 

“She's good. Probably making her professors cry right now.”

 

In a way, Scott _ knew _ it was coming. Malia could be terrifyingly astute sometimes. “Are you ever going to ask her why she's lying?”

 

Scott groaned and shook his head, not really wanting to tackle this old argument. It was hard enough getting into it with Boyd. “I'm the one who sees her every day, Malia. I see how much she tries and how hard it is for her. For some people, baring yourself to another person is a terrifying act of trust, you know?”

 

“Yeah.” Malia said in that blank way that told him she didn't really get it.  “Though...she was the one who called me and told me I could sleep in your bed when I was having a hard time sleeping.”

 

Scott didn't mention that Lydia usually always slept on her right side, just like him; because the fact that Lydia had slept that night on her left side so she wouldn't be leaving her back vulnerable to them had meant something.

 

“Boyd and her have this little back-and-forth witty repartee going, like a chess game where they're constantly trying to outsmart each other. He thinks she's a danger to us. You're telling me you don't.”

 

Malia frowned as she weighed her response. “I trust that Lydia's a good person, even if she's lying to us a lot.”

 

“Then we can work with that, can't we?”

 

 

 

**12:15 pm**

 

This, Lydia realized, had not been a good choice of setting for a meeting with her fellow agents.

 

She'd been excited to try the teppanyaki restaurant for the first time- they hadn't had anything like that in Silver City. Former Councilor Argent had kept an iron control over their sector and just as he'd encouraged supernatural phobia, so he had also kept anything unpleasantly 'foreign' out. Unless it was French. He'd fought in the war before the last one- the one in Europe that had just about failed when Hitler had sent his airships over the ocean and bombed the east coast.

 

But, in spite of finding herself surrounded by supernatural creatures, Lydia had also found herself enjoying certain freedoms not afforded her sex back home. Like school.

 

“Ah!” Liam exclaimed from her left. “It's not so hard after all.” He clicked the twin ends of his chopsticks together before reaching down to carefully pick up a piece of shrimp. Unfortunately, he didn't even manage to successfully bring said shrimp to his mouth. When it dropped to the wooden table before them and bounced away, Hayden snorted on Lydia's right.

 

“Not hard at all if you're skilled enough.” She leaned over the table to boast with a smirk, picking up a piece of steak and closed her lips over the chopsticks. When Liam glared and began to stab at his food with his chopsticks, Lydia rolled her eyes heavenward. Liam was her own trainee, but Hayden had been Allison's; and while that made Hayden awesome in her own right, her history with Liam made Lydia feel like a kindergarten schoolteacher.

 

The problem here was that they couldn't be certain who could overhear them even as relatively isolated as they were in the corner. Not many people came here for lunch compared to dinner, and of course they couldn't be entirely sure about the chef currently chopping steak on the hot grill.

 

“Scallops, please, Chef.” She says in a sotto voice, looking for the tiniest hint of recognition on the part of the man focused on the eggs sizzling on the grill.  There was none.  Letting out a mental sigh of relief, she sharply elbowed both Liam and Hayden.

 

“Mission report, _ now _ .”

 

Liam tensed and twisted until he was facing her, serious and focused all of the sudden. “Something's definitely happening tonight. I think we'll be staying up late to shadow Scott.”

 

Good, because it had been nearly impossible to track her husband's whereabouts when he randomly disappeared in the middle of the night.  He'd started doing that sporadically about three weeks into their marriage; the advantage of being strangers was that Scott was entirely unaware that Lydia was a light sleeper. By the time she had phoned Liam, any markers to his route had disappeared. They couldn't use trackers because unfortunately the state of technology hadn't yet invented a small one that didn't emit a noise beyond the threshold of a werewolf's hearing.

 

If they could anticipate one of Scott's excursions, they could finally figure out what he was up to- she was pretty sure it didn't involve a nice nighttime run _ al furry, _ which had been the excuse he'd given her when she'd asked where he'd gone.

 

“And you?” She raised an eyebrow at Hayden, who had to swallow first before she could talk.

 

“I managed to trail Hale and Boyd down to the warehouse district- they're definitely following someone else and casing the place.” Lydia gave her trainee an impressed look.

 

“I would've thought those two would pick up on a tail, Hale especially.”

 

At that, Hayden straightened her spine, practically smirking. With the black cats-eye glasses she wore she looked nearly as sophisticated as Lydia. “I'm very good at keeping track of people at a distance. It's all about predictive behavior.”

 

“I approve.” Hayden preened as Lydia continued. “I want to see if Scott heads down there today. If we can narrow down precisely where he'll go, we might be able to avoid losing them or being discovered tonight.” She ordered Liam before repeating her request to the  Chef, albeit at a louder volume.

 

Liam was hedging, biting his lip. Lydia sighed. “What?”

 

He spared a wary glance in Hayden's direction before confessing. “I think Scott suspects something, though. He might be aware he's being followed.”  Liam was bright and very driven- cocky, even- but he could be so unbelievably clumsy at times.

 

Well, that was just peachy. There's a part of her- a big part right now- that wants to tell Scott, to trust him. Nothing she's seen out of him has told her he's a bad person. Which was what made his nocturnal ambulations so perplexing. But every time she thought about telling Scott, she remembered _ why _ she was doing this in the first place.

 

It'd been serendipitous luck she'd ended up being Scott's Soulmate, when he had been bitten and turned by Peter Hale himself. And Lydia had big plans for Peter- ones she'd been working towards for a long time.  They were too important to risk if Scott and his friends weren't free of Peter's influence and/or got in the way.

 

Victoria had told Lydia that if she needed to kill Scott, she shouldn't let herself become so invested that she hesitated. Hayden had relayed that much the last time she'd made the trip through Salvation gate under the guise of 'visiting her sick grandmother'. Which was a joke because for all Hayden was technically human for the time being, her grandmother was a 215 year-old Erinyes. A Fury.

 

Eleni didn't _ do _ sick.

 

“We'll have to risk it today. Drop back as much as you dare, and if you're captured... _ you know what to do _ .”

 

“Yeah.” Liam sighed, nodding solemnly. “I do.”

 

Lydia could see the doubt writ clearly on his face. Why couldn't Allison have come with them? She was so much better at the pep talk, at being encouraging, than Lydia. “Look, after Allison and I, you two are the best agents they've had in twenty years. Victoria wouldn't have assigned you two to me if she didn't believe our assessments of your abilities. We are getting closer to knowing what Peter gets up to. We're almost there.”

 

Maybe that was just another lie she kept telling herself so she could keep going.

 

The truth? Lydia suspected she was already compromised when it came to Scott McCall. There were so many lies keeping the bed cold between them, so much that she wasn't sure if anything about their marriage was real.  But sometimes she could almost imagine a real future with him, one where the both of them were happy and free.

 

“Here,” Lydia picked up one, then another of her scallops and placed it on the table in front of her trainees. “Eat up. It's going to be a long night.”

  
  
  
  
  


**2:30 pm**

 

Talia Hale had been, for all intents and purposes, a great Alpha. After her murder, that role had fallen to her eldest daughter, Laura. Something Peter didn't appreciate, given the way he had expanded into the seedy underbelly of the city. Not only that, he owned the company that controlled one of the major railroad routes  through the ashlands, to the sea. Giving him a lot of power without being accountable to anybody.

 

The Hale pack put up with him because he was blood and there was no way Scott would be a part of theirs, not with what he'd have to give up. How could he consent to be around the man who murdered his childhood best friend and changed him against his own will? So he had no pack, which wasn't a death sentence the way it might have been in the old days before the reveal.

 

Over the years, he'd built up a motley collection of friends, most of whom didn't really belong anywhere else. Kept them from being alone. And they were all in this with him; playing vigilante because it was one of the few small ways they could exercise power over their lives. He had chosen not to tell Lydia about what he was doing. If she came from Silver City, then maybe she would be inclined to agree with what he was doing...but Scott didn't feel ready to risk his friends on that particular assumption.

 

Most of the city had been slowly cleaned up and repaired after the damage of the civil war, but Hawthorne lane was still overrun by cracked asphalt and worn down brick buildings that had at least one broken window to each unit. Today, most of the ugliness was hidden by the snow that had thankfully stopped falling just before noon.

 

Derek had used some of his own capital and the skills his mother had taught him about real estate to secure one of the empty buildings for their clandestine activities.  Which was convenient when they needed to shake off potential tails and change in and out of regular clothing before heading into more populated areas.

 

There it was again. The heartbeat in unison with his steps. A werewolf wouldn't follow so closely and a witch would have other ways of tracking him without following. There was a long list of others to consider, but something told Scott it was a human trailing behind him. The rustle every time his shoes scuffed through snow that was still on the sidewalk gave him away the more deserted the streets became.

 

So now, Scott had a choice to make.

 

As soon as he rounded the corner, he listened even more deeply for the sound of anybody else in the vicinity.  Once assured there was nobody, Scott pressed himself against the wall and waited. The guy who came around the corner was several inches shorter, with light brown hair combed back over high in the style favored by the rockabillies. His hands were stuffed in his jean jacket and he had committed the egregious mistake of glancing up the street as he turned instead of keeping an eye around the corner.

 

“Whoa-” He began to exclaim when he looked forward and stepped right into Scott's fist. Scott caught a flash of blue eyes before the guy crumbled like a bag of bricks. He'd been careful to hold back his full strength, though. It was an easy feat to hoist the unconscious guy up over his shoulder and continue on his path to the safehouse.

 

Boyd and Kira were already there, and their conversation died the moment they saw Scott striding into the spacious area with someone flung over his shoulder.

 

“Wakey wakey, Sunshine.” Boyd sang as he splashed the bucket full of water into their captive's face. That was enough for him to sputter and flail in the metal chair they'd deposited him on. Untied, because he was human and they were faster. As if connected by the same mind, both Scott and Boyd took up the wide stances and crossed-arms meant to intimidate.

 

Behind them, Kira paced back and forth in front of the table, alternating between nervously chewing on her fingernails and frowning at the stalker.

 

“What the hell, man?” The younger man sputtered as he wiped angrily at the water on his face. Glaring up at them with nostrils flaring and eyes darting back and forth furiously, he waited for an explanation.

 

Scott turned to Boyd and they shared a chuckle at the guy's expense. “Actually, we're waiting for you to explain what the hell you're doing following me places. I'm assuming you're the same one who was following me the other day. Who do you work for?”

 

All they got was a stubbornly tensed jaw and continued scowling. Scott didn't think this kid was particularly malicious, so he was hoping that the implicit threat would work and he would talk.

 

No joy, though his heart was rabbiting faster and faster.

 

But then...a sniffle. Boyd groaned from next to him and rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he turned his back on the spectacle.

 

The guy's chin was practically tucked against his chest and...yup, he was crying. The air thickened with a hint of salt. Shit. Scott blanched and kneeled down so he could try to calm the kid down face to face. “Hey. There's no need for there to be any trouble. We can talk about this-”

 

It was Kira who figured out what he was going to do before they did. “Wait, no-!”

 

Their captive had waited until they were off center and backpedaling from the entirely unexpected presence of tears to make his move; he darted through the wide open space Scott and Boyd had left between them and the door, pumping his shorter legs as fast as he could towards freedom.

 

Scott was after him in a flash, but the kid was _ fast _ . Fast for a human, but human still. He burst through the door, only to be lifted backwards in the air as Malia rushed through the door, hand wrapped around his throat, flashing her wolf eyes and fangs.

 

Even then, Scott had to wince at the grunt of pain that came out of their fleeing captive as he was slammed into the concrete floor below. Cold air continued to gust in after Malia who grinned up at them.

 

“Having fun without me?”

  
  
  


“I could make him talk.” Malia stated casually several minutes later, staring down at the younger man. He actually let out a small whimper. This time they had flanked him on all sides.

 

“Let's hope it doesn't come to that.” Scott told her, playing along for now.

 

The kid's breathing began to approach hyperventilation and he finally shouted, “You wouldn't let her! You're not like that.” Realizing that he'd probably said something he shouldn't, he pressed his lips tightly together and shook his head, avoiding eye contact with them.

 

“Huh. He seems to know a lot about you.” Boyd said, watching the kid with a thoughtful look as he rolled up the sleeves of his nice button-down. He worked for an architecture firm, so Scott was used to seeing him neatly dressed.

 

“That he does.” Scott muttered, approaching the chair.

 

“Now, I'm afraid we really do need to know who you're working for. I don't want to suspect you work for one of the worst criminals in the city, but I can't let you endanger us all.”  The prisoner's eyebrows were knit together as he tried to make up his mind about what to do.

 

But he ended up shaking his head stubbornly. “I can't.”

 

Malia let out a groan of frustration. “I'll find out if he's working for Peter.” The threat hung heavy in the air as she stalked towards him, claws out.

 

The prisoner scrambled backwards out of the chair, hands held out in front of him, terrified. “No, you can't! You can't!” He kept yelling even as Malia bore down on him.

 

“Malia, _ stop _ !” Scott roared, showing his wolf. That stopped Malia cold. Then Kira was there, placing a calming hand on Malia's elbow, getting her to stand down.  To the prisoner, she said absolutely seriously and solemnly.

 

“If you really don't work for Peter Hale, and if you truly believe we're not cruel, then it would be in your best interest to tell us who you work for.”

 

The prisoner didn't get a chance to answer because a feminine voice called out from the entrance. “He works for me.”

 

Scott knew that voice. He heard it every day.

 

“Lydia?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**3:45 pm**

  
  
  


“There are wolves in the night, Lydia,” her mother used to say, tucking her into bed as a child, safe and sound. This vague statement was always presented as incontrovertible fact and it wasn't until Lydia had been older that she wondered if 'wolves' was meant more symbolically than just referring to supernatural creatures. The war had still been going on, then.

 

Lydia had known all about wolves by the time she was sixteen- covering up dark circles with foundation makeup and slicking pink gloss over her lips as if it were armor. And it was. It was the veneer of normalcy she clung to desperately after the invasion and the attack. The illusion that she could make everything okay through sheer force of will.

 

That veneer had saved her for years, yet it was the very thing that made it hard for her to truly play her part as Scott's wife. She had thought she could just seduce him, once. That she could entice him and get him to fuck her because it couldn't be that hard, right? That night had been spent alone in their bedroom with her robe wrapped tightly around her as she got mascara and tears streaked on her pillow.

 

He'd seen right through the ruse.

 

Twenty minutes before, Hayden had rushed over to the apartment Lydia shared with Scott, breathless and carrying undesirable news. Liam had been captured and now Lydia's hand was truly forced. She couldn't just leave him there. She doesn't think they'll really _ hurt _ him, per se, but she wasn't willing to take that chance.

 

She was responsible for everything that happened to him.

 

So she'd marched down there, leaving Hayden with explicit orders to wait a block away and if Lydia didn't debrief her later, make a break for Salvation gate. At least Victoria and Allison would be appraised of the situation.

 

Her toes were freezing in her high heels and as she approached the door to the address Hayden had rattled off to her, Lydia thought about the night she'd tried to sleep with her husband, because she felt even more vulnerable now than she had that evening.

 

Her trainee was yelling desperately when she stepped through the door. Malia's wolf was showing, reacting to a threat to her friends. Kira was reasoning with Liam even as Scott placed a placating hand on Malia's shoulder. And Boyd...Boyd, who had never trusted her, was the first to hear her entrance.  

 

Okay, Lydia enjoyed the look of slack-jawed surprise on his face. But then Scott was looking at her and Lydia absolutely hated the way that same surprise looked on his face.

 

Nothing to do now, but tell the truth. Bare herself, all her secrets and all her lies to him.

 

“Lydia?”

 

“Please don't maim Liam. I've put a lot of time and effort into his training.” She told the congregation of shifters earnestly, nervously thumbing the handle of her handbag through the soft material of her gloves.

 

“Oh, thanks.” Liam muttered acerbically. “How did you find me, anyways?”

 

Not sparing him a glance, Lydia answered. “Hayden was trailing you.”

 

A groan. “Great, she'll never let me hear the end of this.”

 

The shock had finally worn off. Scott strode across the room until he was in front of her. Lydia pretended she didn't see Boyd's claws coming out, just in case.

 

“What is this?” From that point on, she saw nothing but the utter seriousness on Scott's face. The way his dark brown eyes were carefully blank as if he were steeling himself for disappointment.

 

“Oh, are we both participating in Sharing Hour?” She drawled, a tad bitterly. “I hope you know I never believed your excuses about going for a run in the middle of the night.”

 

Scott closed his eyes for a moment before opening them, face softening a fraction. “Lydia, please.”

 

She relented. “Before I got the envelope, I was working for Coucilor Argent- the current one- as an agent. Finding out it was you gave me an excuse to carry out the one mission I wanted above all else.”

 

A muscle beneath his left eye twitched. “And what was that?”

 

“To kill Peter Hale.”

 

  
  


**5:45 pm**

  
  


_ Ding! _

 

The microwave chimed as it finished heating the final dinner through and Lydia popped the door open, removing the steaming tray and setting it in front of Scott.

 

Her chest felt tight as she sat down to push her fork through her own meal. Some turkey breast with mashed potatoes and gravy, not that it was a good approximation. She had no appetite anyways.

 

They went through the mechanics of pretending they were going to eat a meal and ignore the enormous elephant in the room for all of five minutes before Scott was tossing his fork down with a clatter.

 

“No. It's too dangerous. It's dangerous for us to be doing what we're doing...but we're not human, we have a chance. You don't.”

 

Lydia knew he said that out of concern for her, but she bristled at the limitations. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

 

“For what?” He argued. “Glory? Fame back home? You're just going to make good use of a convenient marriage-”

 

“It's not like that!” She argued.

 

“Then what's it like? I told you we're working against Peter and you're still hiding things from me. You still can't trust us.”

 

“Of course I couldn't trust you!” Lydia burst out, her anger finally getting the best of her. “You were bitten by Peter. Malia is his daughter. Derek is his nephew. And Alphas like Peter delight in using their position and abilities to control people. I couldn't be certain.”

 

The dining room was dead silent as Lydia stared down at the black dinner tray, unseeing, panting heavily from her outburst. She can't do this, it's too much, she's raw, she's exposing herself too much.

 

When Scott spoke, it was with a gentleness she hadn't expected. “Lydia. Lydia, look at me.”

 

It took a great deal of bravery for her to look up and meet his concerned gaze, to see the naked emotion there. “This isn't just about a mission, is it? This is personal.”

 

She didn't know how to put it into words, so she simply stood up and pulled her sweater over her head in one fluid motion. It upset the careful pins she'd put in her hair that morning, sending curls tumbling down her back.

 

“Lydia, wha- I'm not going to-” she heard as she let the material fall to the floor. She ignored him and reached with numb fingers for the button at the back of her skirt. Sliding it down her hips, she stood before him in her brassiere and underwear, letting her hand draw his attention to her left side.

 

She saw it on his face when he registered the scars. The bite marks that could only have come from an Alpha werewolf.  He was out of his seat in a flash and standing before her, staring from her scars back up to her face. “He did this, didn't he.” There it was, that anger, channeled into determination.

 

Her husband was the kind of person who volunteered in soup kitchens and whose first instinct was to help people. That's why she lo- that's why she had gone weak, certainly.

 

“The warning had gone out that day,” Lydia began, voice cracking from the dryness in her throat. “The fighting was boiling over and they were recommending people stay home that night. But there was a dance and I wanted to be normal.” Normal had meant control.

 

She looked down, remembering. “I'd found the perfect dress and I'd wanted to track down my ex-boyfriend and show him what he was missing. I was on the Lacrosse field when a man showed up.” She broke off, swallowing a sob.

 

A warm hand curled around hers, grounding her in the present. “It was the fear that made my brain disconnect from my body. I couldn't move fast enough, not that it would've made a difference if I could've. He bit me.”

 

“I'm sorry.” Scott murmured and he suddenly seemed too close, too intimate as he reached up and brushed away a tear with his thumb before it could make its way down her cheek.

 

“Don't be. The same thing happened to you, right? Except you turned, and I didn't.” She squeezed his hand, testing the weight and the solid feel of it; most especially the way her heartbeat thudded heavily agaisnt her ribcage from the desired contact. In the early days of their marriage, they'd touched plenty, tested out their nascent attraction to one other with kisses. But once his hands brushed over her side, it'd been game over, act on.

 

“Why not?” Scott cleared his throat. “Usually the only reason why anyone escapes the usual fate of 'turn or die' is because they're already something else than human. Something incompatible with the bite.”

 

“I don't know.” Lydia admitted. She tried her best not to think about that, which was out of character for her. Normal was control, and something unknown in her nature was not. Scott cleared his throat.

 

“Everybody thought Peter had died during the invasion...it was something of a nasty surprise when he showed up months later, after the cease fire had been declared.” Scott told her. “He skirted the law and the worst of his crimes that could be proven had been done during wartime or before Councilor Ito took power. So he got away with it.”

 

This was it. The thing that might turn him against her. Hands clammy and head swimming with lightness, Lydia swallowed hard. “About that...I think I might have been the one to bring him back to life.”

 

The admission took the last of her strength. “I need to sit down.”

 

Which was how she found herself curled up in Scott's arms on the couch, skirt on but shirt still off, while he stroked his fingers through her hair, now loose from its bun. The living room was blessedly dim, allowing herself to calm her heartbeat until she was drifting almost into a half-conscious realm.

 

She allowed herself to be comforted as she told him what she had told no other soul before. Not even Allison.

 

“My nightmares took me over when I was awake and I lost time. He was everywhere, showing me all these terrible things he was going to do to the people I cared about. One night, when it was the full moon again, he led me to his body, told me how to use the mirrors, and then he crawled out of my head, out of the grave...”

  
  
  


 

**9:35 pm**

  
  
  


“You know?”

 

Scott peered up at Derek as he dropped himself down into the couch opposite him. All the revelations of the night had left him feeling turned inside out. Peter had taken control away from him and Lydia, turned them both inside out, and left them to deal with the wreckage. The rage that bubbled underneath the surface was harder to deny now.

 

“Yeah, the others filled me in. So, what are you gonna do about it?” Derek asked, though not unkindly. That was the million dollar question, wasn't it? What was he going to do about his wife, who, as it turned out, was so much more similar to him than he could have ever expected.

 

(Which begged the question of whether they would've still been named Soulmates if Peter hadn't attacked both of them.)

 

“I don't know,” he said simply, shaking his head as he met Derek's eyes. “She's not our enemy in the slightest.”

 

“I believe you and her on that. Boyd, Malia, and Kira say her vengeance is just. That her lies are forgivable.” That surprised Scott.

 

“Even Boyd? He was the one who distrusted her the most.”

 

Derek let out a small laugh. “He hates things he hasn't figure out yet. That's not the case anymore.” Scott had just spent the better part of an hour repeating what Lydia had told him to his friends, knowing they needed to be aware of Lydia's motivations if they were ever going to get a handle on how things had changed now that three Section Four spies were in the mix.

 

“So, what happens tonight?”

 

Scott sighed and leaned forward, placing his weight onto his forearms and his legs. “We've prepared too much to let this chance slip from our fingers. I say we go while we still have the advantage.”

 

Derek nodded. “Then we'll go.”

 

Scott didn't know why it surprised him whenever Derek, who was older by six years, deferred to his judgment, but it did.

  
  


While they got ready and smeared scent-erasers over their bodies, Scott couldn't help but think back to what Lydia had said to him before he'd left. He'd begged her to put off her vengeance, to at least wait until they could discuss what they both knew about Peter's movements.

 

She wanted justice so badly she was willing to risk her life exacting it in person, and Scott had been shocked to realize how much the prospect of losing her shook him to the core. He'd shoulder that risk for her willingly...but he wasn't sure if he could do that...kill him.

 

It'd taken a great deal of negotiating before Lydia agreed to stay in that night. But before he'd walked out the front door, she'd dug her fingernails into his forearm, hard enough that there had been bloody half-moons for an hour.

 

“Answer me one thing: that night you came home, stinking of gasoline...”

 

She had bared herself to him earlier, he owed her the same. “After the cease fire, a pack of Alphas formed. I got caught in their crosshairs and they were determined to show me that I should be viewing the world as a threat that...I thought it'd be easier for my mom and my friends if...” Even now, he couldn't say the words.

 

But Lydia, she did it for him, face pale but shadowed by the reach of night in their living room, upturned to his own. Eyes intent on his, holding his gaze as if her focus would give him strength. “You were going to set yourself on fire, weren't you? You were going to kill yourself because you thought that'd save us all.”

 

“Yes,” he'd admitted thickly, feeling hollow but not free once he'd done so.

 

The heavy thud of her heartbeat then...that was his guilt and his salvation.

  
  
  


**11:20 pm**

 

The explosion reverberated through the air, the darkness of the night lighting up with orange flame as the warehouse went up, consuming all the ill-gotten gains Peter had shipped the previous day. Boyd shouted with exultation, his wolf still showing as he pumped a fist in the air. If Erica were with them, instead of up North, she would've been howling with joy.

 

Derek stood nearby, always guarding him. In the distance, Scott saw Malia and Kira sprinting away, the gleam of Kira's sword reflecting the firelight.  They usually go home together after a job like this, and he doesn't begrudge them the comfort of having survived yet again.

 

Every time he does this, he feels a surge of...not happiness but _ satisfaction _ . He hoped Peter was angry, he hoped Peter felt the tiniest bit of fear about his own fate. What is dead should have stayed dead.

 

He parted ways with Boyd and Derek near Maple street, where he turned off towards home and Derek and Boyd towards theirs. By this late hour, the snow was falling again, brightening up the dark night.

 

He was walking past the park before his block when he felt it. That familiar skittering sensation down the back of his spine, a remnant of the old bond that had once forcibly connected him to Peter.

 

The second he looked to his left, he saw it: the dark shape in the middle of the field...

 

Peter standing there with his claws against Lydia's throat.

 

Fear gripped him, making it harder for him to breathe. Scott paced carefully over the snow-covered ground, allowing his wolf to show as he approached.

 

“Well, hello Scott. Lydia and I are so glad you could grace us with your presence at last. I heard you've had a productive night.” The mellifluous nature of his tone couldn't quite hide the rage lurking beneath the surface.

 

Scott kept his attention on Lydia- on the way she was fighting so hard to manage her fear but the tremble in her lower lip was giving her away. God knew he could hear it in her heartbeat, sluggish as it pounded heavily against her ribcage.

 

“Let her go,” Scott growled.

  
  


Peter's claws scraped teasingly against her vulnerable throat. “I have to say I'm disappointed in you. If you had a problem with me, you should've come directly to me instead of resorting to these petty little attacks.” The sneer there told Scott that these attacks had been anything but petty.

 

They'd rattled his cage.

  
  
  
  
  


When Lydia had walked into the living room and seen the monster from her waking nightmares standing there, she hadn't bothered to run.  This time, she'd stood there, defiantly facing him. Not because she wasn't scared...she was truly terrified...but because she was _ angry _ . She treasured that rage.

 

“Hello, Lydia. I admit I was surprised to learn you were living here now, and married to Scott of all people. And by surprised, I mean suspicious.” He had told her.

 

“Go fuck yourself.” She had spat out.

 

That had gotten her a darkening bruise on her cheek and no coat as she stood there in the snow-covered field waiting for her husband to come. He'd at least allowed her to put on her shoes under his watchful gaze. In a bid to feel more in control, she'd even swiped on some lip gloss, which had gotten a snort out of Peter.

 

“That's what I like about you, Lydia, always so vain.”

 

She'd said nothing.

 

Now Scott stood there, wolf out and ready for a fight. His yellow eyes were trained on her...wait no, they were red? No, they were definitely yellow. “Let her go,” he growled.

 

Peter dug his claws ever so slightly harder into her throat, hard enough she didn't dare swallow lest her jugular be perforated. His chest rumbled against her back as he spoke. “No, I don't think I will. You see, Scott, I'm finally listening and accepting who you say you are. And that's not a killer. Tell me, are you still willing to die for your friends? Because that's the price I'll accept for the damage you've done to me.”

 

No, no. “Don't-” she began to plead with Scott, but Peter cut her off.

 

“Shhh.”

 

“Yes I will. Let her walk and I'll switch places with her.” Lydia could see the resolve in his eyes, the sad acceptance.  She didn't want to die, but she couldn't bear for Peter to win against Scott again.

 

“Very well,” Peter purred. “But Lydia, dear, won't you let me give you a small, congratulatory kiss since I missed the wedding?” He spun her around before she could see the horror she could hear in Scott's voice as he protested, moving closer.

 

“Ah, ah.” Peter held up a clawed finger, his other hand still close enough to do mortal damage to her internal organs should Scott move any closer.

 

“We're not faster than him.” Lydia called out to Scott, swallowing her disgust, her terror with the hardness of her glare up at Peter. There was no humanity in those blue eyes when they smiled down at her.

 

It's not the first time he's stolen a kiss from her. He'd controlled her mind, before. Lydia endured it and didn't breathe until he was backing away, looking positively gleeful.

 

He'd really done it. She hadn't been sure she could count on him to, but it'd been the only weapon she could take before he'd dragged her out of her home. Breath rushed out of her diaphragm as she let out an enormous sigh of relief.  But that was dashed by the roar that rent the night air.

 

Scott had taken advantage of Peter's distraction during the kiss and leaped at the former Alpha. Lydia gasped as she was knocked to the ground.

 

It was happening so fast- too fast for her to really see what was happening. Scott was a smart fighter; small and good at aiming for vulnerable spots. But Peter, for all he was a consummate manipulator, fought with brute strength. The swipes he took were leaving Scott with  large gashes of blood all over.

 

Lydia was mute with horror. At this rate, all that would be left of her Soulmate was ribbons of blood. When she'd lived in Silver City, before the bite, she'd enjoyed going to the black-and-white horror films at the local theater. She'd rolled her eyes at the way the filmmakers were so obviously using a female scream as the instrument of dramatic fear in movies. It was something about how women were viewed as the weaker sex in their culture achieving something nearly beyond the normal capabilities of human beings in that moment, that made it chilling.

 

She didn't know why such a space existed in the human body at all, waiting for something that hurt so much that it required it. But then again...Lydia Martin was apparently not human after all.

 

The scream that ripped from her throat was so loud, and so strong, that it seemed to fly. With a force of its own, it knocked into Peter's back as he stood crouched over Scott, claws raised to deal the killing blow. He spun over in the air and rolled to his feet, trying to shake off the pain in his eardrums.  Scott climbed to his feet slowly, the fight having taken a lot out of him.

 

Lydia has only known Scott McCall for three and a half months, and they've been married for exactly that long. But she remembers the stench of gasoline on him that night he came home, looking utterly emptied of everything.  That was the look he had when he'd been willing to kill himself to make it all stop.

 

The look of resolve in his eyes when he'd accepted Peter's terms? That was an entirely new expression and that was how Lydia knew he meant to cross that line he'd set for himself. To kill.

 

For her. For all of them.

 

“Scott, stop. It's okay.” She padded across the snow to him, half her pajamas wet and freezing through to skin. Placing a hand on his bicep, Lydia stared up at the visage that, for a long time, she'd feared.

 

It was there again, the red eyes. He'd become naturally, what many others had died or killed over. Tonight wasn't the first time she'd seen Scott as an Alpha in his own right.  But now, she knew he had absolute control over his power. He turned and met her eyes, trusting her command.

 

“Why?” He panted.

 

Lydia smiled then, fingers ghosting over a particularly nasty gash across his chest. “Look at Peter now. See how sluggish he is?”

 

Scott looked back over at Peter, seeing what she was seeing. And Peter really was listing to the side, unable to stand up. Finally, he collapsed back on the snow, confusion in his dull blue eyes.

 

“Lydia, wh- what have you done?” He mumbled, breath growing ragged.  Lydia let go of Scott and stepped closer.

 

“Remember what you told me the night I resurrected you? 'Not only incredibly beautiful, not only incredibly intelligent, but immune.' I put  Kanima venom in my lip gloss. It wouldn't affect me, and you just thought I was vain.”

 

She spat on him.

 

“Lydia.”

 

Hayden stood there, her form cast in shadow even under the unobstructed moon. The sword she held in her hands, however, its steel gleamed as it reflected the snow and the light. She might not be a Fury yet, but she was already growing into her own instincts. And Lydia had discussed this possibility in depth with Allison's trainee.

 

When Lydia walked over to her, Hayden handed her the blade. She wouldn't have let go of it if she didn't feel in her bones that Lydia's right to vengeance wasn't just. Pausing near Scott once more, Lydia looked up at him and waited. Just waited.

 

He nodded.

 

So she stepped over Peter's prone body and remembered all the training Allison had given her for using the sword. Peter pleaded with her, he yelled with impotent rage, but she still cleaved him in half with a single swing.

 

Hayden didn't stick around after. Lydia had ordered her not to, to minimize repercussions and make sure her trainees had a chance to run and inform Victoria and Allison. She didn't run, either, though she could've. For her service to her country, she'd be made immune from extradiction. She'd completed her mission and now...

 

Now she'd chosen Scott. She'd chosen to remain with her husband in this new country.

  
  
  


Scott wasn't sure how to describe what he felt when Lydia said goodbye to her other agent and came to stand next to him while they watched the blood pour out of Peter's severed body, bright red as it tainted the snow and darkened his green shit-a macabre Christmas display. Lydia met Scott's human eyes and he felt the guilt overtake him. He felt as if he'd failed her.

 

But Lydia...Lydia who looked wan and bedraggled and yet who was the most beautiful sight he'd seen in his short life...she smiled at him.

 

“It wouldn't have been the same for you, Scott. Killing Peter would have meant he won, no matter how justified you would have been. But I needed to vanquish my demons. So I saved you, too.” He smiled back tightly, but gratefully. Maybe sometimes he could get used to letting people help him, shoulder the burden.

 

“What are we gonna do with his body, though?” He asked her.

 

“That's a good question.” Lydia jumped against him and Scott spun around to face the source of the voice, mentally berating himself for not having heard someone approach. Well, no wonder, because before them were none other than Councilor Ito and Victoria Argent.

 

Reflexively, he reached behind him and linked his fingers through Lydia's. She was trembling now, the rabbiting of her heartbeat betraying how terrified she was of her fate.

 

“That won't be necessary, Alpha McCall.” At his surprise, Satomi snorted. “Do you think the rumors of your changing eyes haven't reached me? I think you underestimate how many people I have spying for me.” She sounded mildly insulted.

 

“So what's going to happen to me?” Lydia asked. Satomi shrugged.

 

“Well, nothing, I should think. While I cannot condone extrajudicial executions, I don't think the courts could deny that Peter Hale was a war criminal who would have been headed for the same end. And you, Mr. McCall, would have been offered the right, except then you would've had the very expectant eyes of society upon you. So, perhaps, it's better that it happened this way.” He could have collapsed with relief. They wouldn't be killing Lydia, no 'blood must have blood', even if Laura wouldn't have demanded it for Peter.

 

“And the body?” He asked. Victoria spoke up then, tone sharp as cut glass.

 

“Oh, we'll take half. Satomi will take the other. There's no reason to pass up a great PR moment between our sectors.”

 

“Politics.” Satomi inclined her head towards Councilor Argent.

 

And with that, Scott was left to nudge Lydia past the police, just arriving to take care of the scene. Once they hit the sidewalk, the whole thing became absurd, as if they were just out for a nice walk in the middle of the night in bloody clothes.

 

“Can we go home now?” Lydia asked, and Scott thinks he fell in love with her just because she stayed.

 

“Sure.”

 

They were quiet until they made it to the driveway. “It's just as well. Liam wanted to stay because his best friend received a card the other day. Do you know Brett Talbot?”

 

Scott snorted. “He's Councilor Ito's adopted son.”

 

“No kidding.”

 

“Boyd will be nicer to you now.” Scott pointed out, but Lydia scrunched her face up and made a moue of disgust.

 

“Ugh, I hope not. Honestly, arguing with him is one of the highlights of my days.”

  
  
  
  


**7:01 am**

 

Beyond the windowpanes with their cracked white paint, the morning was gray and still. Bare branches reached out with wizened fingers, hinting at the world outside the sanctuary of their bedroom. All the warmth of the night was still trapped beneath the covers. This time, Lydia didn't tense when she woke up in Scott's arms. This time, Scott didn't move away.

 

This time, Lydia rolled over and watched him for a moment, eyes impossibly big, and kissed him. This time, Scott didn't stop her. Neither of them were shy as they tugged off their clothes; why would they, when they had now seen each other with their skin off? Cheeks nuzzled, fingers caressed and tangled in hair, lips partook with a dizzying desperation borne of holding back for so long.

 

It wasn't about the red thread, it wasn't about the lies or even the truth, it was simply about looking at another person- in all their glory and in all their weakness- and choosing to say 'i will love you like this.'

 

After their voices cried out in exultation and they lay collapsed against one other, not entirely sure where one ended and the other began, they stared out the window to where they could only see the treetops, and nothing else. This, in here, was _ home _ .

 

Beyond, outside, was another country.


End file.
